


Don't finish without me

by mariesondetre



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 13:59:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12842664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariesondetre/pseuds/mariesondetre
Summary: A little cockles'turbation at an undefine con.





	Don't finish without me

**Author's Note:**

> This is the smuttiest thing I've written so far, but rest assured it's well seasoned with the extra bit of fluff, because I can't do without it. These two idiots will be the end of my cheesy heart.

The phone vibrates once again against Misha’s thigh. He tries not to jump, hoping the girl he’s been hugging doesn’t feel anything, but apparently she’s totally oblivious, and after the picture is taken, she walks away to her friends. Misha fishes the phone out of his pocket and reads the new text message:

_How many people left?_

Misha types his response to Jensen:

_Four or five_

The answer comes almost instantly.

_Hurry up or I start without you. Can’t wait much longer._

Misha’s heart skips a beat. The staff member is bringing the next person forward. He types quickly before turning to the fan:

_I don’t mind as long as you don’t finish without me…_

Then he stuffs the phone back in his pocket and smiles, hoping that nothing will delay the end of the photo ops.

 

God, he needs to focus on where he is right now, and not think about what Jensen might be doing two floors above. Their joint photo op is tomorrow, and today they barely saw each other, just bumping into each other once two hours ago; they managed to slip into a bathroom booth together and kiss for one minute and a half - not that he counted -, before they had to get back out. Misha’s rarely seen Jensen so desperate; he was already half hard after their short make-out session. Luckily Jensen got to sit down for his autographs after that, but Misha had to control himself and dedicate his attention to the fans - he owes them that.

Jensen’s session ended before Misha’s photoshoot, and he’s been texting relentlessly since he went back up to his room, or rather, sexting, and fuck if it’s not the most inappropriate and the hottest thing at the same time.

So as soon as the last person waves goodbye and disappears through the door, Misha doesn’t even try to be polite and linger to chat with the convention staff. He just manages to not actually run into the elevator and to Jensen’s door.

His heart beats in his ears when he knocks on the door and he clears his throat before saying “It’s me”. He has to stop himself from calling Jensen’s name out loud - no need to attract the attention of people who might pass in the hallway.

 

The door opens, seemingly by itself. When Misha pushes it open a little wider, a hand falls on his forearm and he finds himself dragged into the room, the door being quickly shut. Then Jensen is on him, pushing him against the door, his body pressing against Misha’s and his breath hot on his neck. This man… Misha wants to drown in him. He closes his eyes and lets Jensen’s scent wash over him as he’s being kissed. There’s no finesse in it, just wet heat and want. When Jensen finally pulls away to breathe, Misha puts a hand on his chest and takes him in. Was there ever a more gorgeous sight, Misha thinks foggily. Jensen’s dressed down to his t-shirt and boxers, his cheeks flushed a deep pink, his eyes shining. He’s completely disheveled but Misha wants to _ravage_ him, and he needs to get a grip for both of them or this will be over in seconds, and even if they (finally) have all night, he’d like to stretch that into minutes at least.

“So you actually got an early start, didn’t you?” he asks, going for cocky despite of the desperation he actually feels. He has trouble hearing anything above the wild beating of his heart. He pointedly looks down at Jensen’s tented boxers. “Let’s see it, then; keep going for me and let me catch up.”

Oh he’ll catch up in no time, he knows that; he’s already hard and aching in his jeans. But he pushes Jensen against the door and goes to sit on the foot of the bed, leaning back on his hands in a completely faux-casual manner. Jensen’s eyes are wide open and pleading.

“Mish... “ he starts, but Misha cuts him off.

“Come on, babe, show me.” His voice is soft. This isn’t mischievous teasing - which he knows how to do, but now is not the time for that. They both need to catch their breath.

Jensen’s gaze doesn’t leave him as his hand starts rubbing the front of his shorts. Misha’s sure he must have been touching himself for the whole end of his own photo op, and he must be close already. He knows Jensen’s face and the noises he makes at any given stage of this.

“Please, Jens,” he whispers, encouraging. Finally, Jensen pushes down his boxers, just enough to take himself in hand. His dick is huge and flushed red and Misha salivates at the sight of it. It’s been entirely too long, it always is, but he doesn’t want to think about that. The pressure of his jeans’ fly is suddenly almost painful. He reaches for his belt, working it open without thinking as he watches the head of Jensen’s dick coming out and disappearing again in his fist as he strokes himself slowly. It’s too slow, Misha knows it, controlled so as to last a little longer. Jensen’s looking at him through hooded eyes, but doesn’t bother to hold in the small moans that escape his lips at the end of every exhale - he’s too far gone to care, and Misha loves it.

He manages to push his pants and boxers down and they catch mid-thigh and he doesn’t care either, focused on Jensen as he is. Mindlessly, he starts stroking himself too, the contact sending a shiver through his whole body. He matches Jensen’s rhythm and for a handful of seconds, they just gaze into each other’s eyes, sparks flying. Eye contact has never been like this with anyone else but Jensen, and the whole world can usually see it, and that’s one of Misha’s favorite things.

Suddenly, with a louder whimper, Jensen pushes himself off the door and crosses the small space between them. In a second he’s on Misha, straddling his thighs and kissing him - or rather, rubbing his face on his, out of breath, his dick still in one hand while he tries to push Misha’s shirt up with the other.

“No,” he says, breathless, “no, I do this all too often when we’re apart, so now that you’re here, I want to touch you, you hear?”

All Misha can do is grab him by the hip and hold him in place and kiss him, drink his moans while he feels Jensen’s rhythm pick up and become erratic almost at once. _He was so close_ , Misha thinks with some sort of triumph, as they both break the kiss and look down between them. Jensen pushes Misha’s shirt up again and they watch him come on Misha’s smooth stomach, white streaks marking the tanned skin. Misha feels the shocks of Jensen's orgasm against his body, and his head swims from the sensations, Jensen’s voice and the heat of his come on his skin and the primal scent and his own hand on his dick, still stroking harder and quicker. Jensen’s hand joins in, adding pressure and increasing the waves of pleasure that surge higher and higher until Jensen whispers a breathy ‘I love you’ into his ear and _oh, I love you too, so much_ , and white-hot ecstasy pulses through his dick and wrenches a loud, throaty moan out of him. The idea of his come mixing with Jensen’s on his belly makes his balls tighten a little more in an additional shock of pleasure and he finally falls on his back, panting. Jensen comes down with him and they’re sticky and messy and not even naked and everything about this is glorious.

It takes a few minutes for their breathing to return to normal. Jensen’s feels heavier on Misha’s side and he lets out deep sighs of contentment. Misha rubs his back in a half-hearted massage. They’re together. It’s good. Misha’s thoughts drift and he’s startled when Jensen chuckles against the side of his neck.

“What’s funny?” he asks, half smiling already.

Jensen gets his head up and leans on one elbow to look down at Misha. His eyes twinkle.

“You did it again.”

“What?”

“It’s almost a reflex. Soon I won’t be able to say it in public.”  Jensen smiles teasingly.

“What are you talking about?”

“You came when I said ‘I love you’. _Again_ .” Then he honest-to-god _giggles_ , the adorable bastard.

“Shut up,” Misha says mildly. “You were the one jacking off before I even got up here, and you came first. And I’m allowed to my kinks.”

With a last chuckle, Jensen bends down and kisses Misha, who melts into it. Jensen may make fun of him, he’s as hopeless as he is. Neither of them is complaining.


End file.
